


give up on a miracle

by Hotvanillas



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angels, Eventual Prinxiety, Rated T for language, except im gonna change a lot of stuff but ill keep a lot of stuff too, so this is a miracle workers au, u dont have to have seen the show to read!! just enjoy angel shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29312664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hotvanillas/pseuds/Hotvanillas
Summary: “I, God, proclaim: Earth will not be destroyed next week if, and only if, an impossible prayer is answered.” As He spoke, His palm began to glow white, such that Patton had to look away for fear of being blinded.•••The sides are angels when they find out the Earth is scheduled to end in a week. In order to save it, all they have to do is set up two humans, Thomas and Nico. Easy enough, right?
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Nico Flores/Thomas Sanders
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	give up on a miracle

_Please, God, let this somehow work out._

Thomas didn’t ask for miracles too often. Well—that was a lie, he probably prayed for some inconsequential thing everyday, but he rarely meant it the way he meant this one. The man at the mall felt like fate. He was beautiful, and according to his backpack he was gay, and he was just a few tables down, and... Thomas should have just said hi as soon as he had noticed him, but he had psyched himself out. Like always.

Usually that would be the end of the story, but as Thomas was headed for the exit, the man was there too. In front of him. Speaking to him.

Thomas was too caught off guard to process the first half of what he said—though he did register being given back his abhorrent carrot snack—and when he tuned back in, all he caught was:

“Uh, it’s okay! It’s probably a bit too nosy for me to ask anyway.”

“Uh, yeah! Super nosy! What’s wrong with you, man?” was the sentence that came out of Thomas’s mouth in response. He blamed his lips for coming up with it, because he knew his mind couldn’t have been involved.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” the man smiled apologetically at him, and even that small, sheepish smile was so radiant… yeah, Thomas was mentally beating the shit out of himself. “Well, have a good night!”

So, now the fate-given man was headed somewhere else, and Thomas was about to lose him—probably forever—if he didn’t act. So, obvious answer: he had to act. But he just… couldn’t. Not without a sign at least.

Not without a push.

When no push came, Thomas told himself it wouldn’t have led anywhere anyway. He continued about his day, with only the slightest added weight in his chest.

•••

“Aw, Virge, we have to do something about this one!”

Virgil looked up from his own paperwork to see the prayer Patton had pulled up.

“‘ _Please, God, let this somehow work out,_ ’” he read out dryly. “Hm, not very specific.”

“Oh, but you didn’t—c’mon, look—“ Patton waved his hand to replay the video of the scene. The figures popped up on the screen, and Patton was reminded all over again of the dopey, flustered expression of the human, Thomas, as he failed so miserably at talking to his mall crush. It was such a silly, hopeful wish—Patton’s favorite kind—and he couldn’t bear to see it go unanswered.

His fellow angel did not share this opinion, evidentially. “Nope. Nuh-uh. No way,” Virgil said, “Love prayers are stupid as shit, hardest of all, never work out. If this whole department’s getting shut down, I’d rather spend my last week answering _achievable_ prayers.”

Patton frowned. His brown-dappled wings drooped as his excitement wavered. “Is that right, though?” he asked, “Should we really stick to… what? Finding lost wallets? Delivering extra sandwiches? Like we’ve done every year of this job? If this is all ending, I wanna finally do something that matters, Virge.”

Virgil looked betrayed. “Lost wallets do matter, Patton. Maybe they don’t end droughts, or heal hearts, but that doesn’t mean they don’t _matter_. If people wish for it, it matters to _them._ I always thought you agreed with me on that.”

Patton bit his lip. He did agree with Virgil, on some level, and on any other day he would have considered his words more carefully. But with the prayer department set to close down this very week, he had lost some of his filter. Maybe his ideas were far-fetched, but when he had joined the Department of Answered Prayers he had been hoping to do exactly that--end droughts, heal hearts.

“Virgil’s right,” chimed in Logan. Their manager made his way over, and took Patton’s tablet from his hands. He swiped upwards on the prayer, officially dismissing it as ‘ _impossible_.’ “There is no need to feel bad, Patton. It’s not our fault humans mainly ask for impossible things. If they want impossible, they need God, and God doesn’t have that kind of time. If they want an extra sandwich… we can pull a few strings.”

Logan nodded approvingly to where Virgil was coding breezes on his tablet, screen open to a view of a rural town avenue. He was carefully, cautiously, innocuously blowing leaves into piles one-by-one. This process eventually cleared the front yard of a small house, just in time for a kind-eyed, middle-aged man to come home and cheer at the sight of the finished chore. He even did a stupid little dance to himself, and Patton saw the smallest smile tug at Virgil’s lips.

“I agree with Patton,” came a voice from over by the mini fridge. Janus was doing what he did best: sipping at the canned wine he wasn’t meant to have, not doing any work, and giving his opinion on everything anyway. “Let’s do something interesting. It’s not like it matters at this point.”

“What do you mean?” Patton squinted at him.

“Cuz the prayer department’s getting shut down, duh, what else have we been talking about?” Virgil answered.

“No,” Janus said, “Well—yes, but… you know _why_ we’re getting shut down, right?”

Patton and Virgil tilted their heads at him, and Logan looked away. A smile appeared on Janus’s face, but not one of joy. One that had an edge, a venom in it. “Logan… you didn’t tell them?”

“It would only upset them,” the management angel replied, still not meeting Janus’s eyes.

“Yeah, because they’ll not be upset at _all_ when they see Earth randomly explode in a few days,” Janus deadpanned.

“What?!” Patton and Virgil exclaimed in simultaneous dismay.

Logan glared at Janus. “Are you happy? Now we have to deal with this for the next week.”

“Earth can’t explode yet,” Virgil said matter-of-factly, “that’s not right. Right?”

Patton nodded emphatically. “We should’ve gotten at least a century’s notice! Or had it on a public schedule somewhere!”

“Yeah, God has to call it off. At least for now,” Virgil agreed.

“You want God to stop it?” Janus said with a laugh. “He didn’t even remember it was happening; it was His PA who told the management staff.”

“Yes, it was,” Logan narrowed his eyes at Janus. “How did you find out about it anyway?”

Janus opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Virgil cut in, “God’s not gonna do _anything_ about it?”

“It’s been in His plan. Why would He need to change it?” Logan asked rhetorically, adjusting his large, round-framed glasses as he did so. It was a movement he made often when he was being a know-it-all.

“How’s Earth gonna die?” Patton asked, looking at the floor, still in denial. He had lived his life on Earth, he had been a human—they all had, before they died and became angels. It had been so long since he’d been alive, he couldn’t quite remember the feeling of it. The memory was blurred around the edges, but it still seeped warmth, like dough burning into bread over a fire. Now, the only connection he had to that sensation were the humans--the chance to watch them, how they lived such utterly flawed, full lives. He recalled Thomas’s hopeful expression.

“Asteroid,” Logan replied. He didn’t need to check his files to give the answer, his ink-blue wings stiff behind him--and that was when Patton knew, despite his cold, indifferent attitude, this news was weighing on him too.

“Like the dinosaurs. Well, bigger. But still unoriginal of Him,” Janus scoffed, checking his nails—well, more like checking his gloves, which seemed unnecessary. Something mournful crossed his face for a moment, but Patton couldn’t place what. “The dinosaurs were sad too.”

“You lived in the 19th century. You weren’t around for dinosaurs,” Logan stated, brow furrowed in confusion. Janus ignored him.

“An asteroid? He could prevent that so easily! Earth deserves to at least live to its natural end,” Patton said. He glanced to Virgil, hoping for backup, but his coworker seemed most focused on biting his black-polished nails into dust.

“Well, isn’t it the natural end if it was in His plan?” Logan asked, once again, rhetorically. He also adjusted his glasses again. Patton liked to think of himself as particularly nice, even for an angel, but he wouldn’t have minded seeing those glasses broken in that moment.

“I’m more interested in your claim that Earth doesn’t ‘deserve’ to end,” Janus smiled at Patton. It was a slippery kind of smile, one that he couldn’t grasp the intentions of. “Overall, it’s a dumpster fire of a planet, wouldn’t you agree? I mean, 99% of the prayers are literally _impossible_ for _angels_ to answer at this point.”

“Yeah, well, I know _some_ angels who are too busy with their shitty wine to even try—“ Virgil began to complain, turning on Janus, but Patton was too busy having a revelation to pay much attention to it.

“That’s it!” Patton exclaimed, jumping up from his seat with a grin.

“Please, be more specific, Patton,” Logan sighed. “Define ‘it.’”

Patton was, once again, too busy to pay attention to this. He made for the doorway with haste, only tossing over his shoulder: “I’m going to meet God!”

•••

Logan, Janus, and Virgil made it to God’s office before Patton did. He wasn’t the best with maps, so sue him. The trio was waiting in the grand hallway for him, and he was thankful that they had decided to back him up, despite the fact they had no idea what he was doing. Even though the coworkers bickered their fair share, you couldn’t work as the only 4 angels in a crumbling department without a certain bond forming.

Patton gave them a grateful smile as he strolled past them and right up to the secretary’s desk. The secretary, who was… not present? He checked the name plaque. Engraved in the gold of it was: _Mrs. Snuffles_ , but the ‘u’ had been scratched out and written over so that it was _Mrs. Sniffles_. Before Patton could even begin to be perplexed by this, a large orange tabby hopped up from the floor, where she had been hidden, and onto the desk.

The cat looked him in the eye, with a surprising amount of purpose, and meowed.

“Hello?” Patton asked, dumbfounded. “...Mrs. Sni—Snuffles?”

She meowed again, this time with an undercurrent of what Patton could only assume was impatience.

“I—“ Patton looked back at the group behind him, but they just shrugged. They were following his lead. _That couldn’t be good._ “We would like to schedule a meeting with God, please.”

Mrs. Snuffles trotted over to a stack of papers, and pushed the top one aside with a swipe of her paw. She looked up from it after a moment, and then jumped down from the table, going up to the gilded, arched doorway at the end of the hall. She started meowing loudly, and soon an angel with cardinal-red wings and a matching red suit jacket stepped out. He looked down at Mrs. Snuffles, then up at Patton.

“I’m terribly sorry, but God is not available right now. He’s very busy,” the angel explained with a polite smile, the kind that was trained and not felt, “and he will be until Earth explodes. Thank you, goodbye.”

“Oh,” Patton said dumbly. He maybe should have expected that.

Mrs. Snuffles hissed at the angel, and he sighed. “You really think they want to talk to Him?”

“We do!” Patton interjected.

“You _think_ you do,” the angel replied, an undercurrent of bitterness to his tone.

“Same difference, right?” Patton said, giving the other a hopeful smile.

“Just let us in, Princey,” Virgil’s annoyed voice came from behind. “Don’t be an ass. At least not more of one than usual.”

Patton looked between the two of them. “You know each other?”

‘Princey’ gave Virgil a deadpan glare. “Fine. You want a meeting with God? Be my guest.” He stepped aside from the doorway, gesturing to it with a sarcastic flourish.

When no one else made a move, Virgil grumbled and pushed past Patton. The rest of the group followed. When they got to the door, Patton paused and turned to the red-winged man. “Princey—“

“Roman,” he corrected.

“Roman,” Patton repeated. He pointed at the cat curiously, “Mrs. ‘ _Sniffles_ ’?”

Roman blushed. “I was allergic when I was alive.”

A resounding reply of “Me too!” went through the group, and they all turned to each other in mild surprise.

“It’s how I died!” Patton added cheerily.

“Huh,” Roman replied with a puzzled frown. He cleared his throat. “Well, good luck.”

“Thank you!” Patton said. He looked down at Mrs. Snuffles as well, “Thank you, too.”

She gave him a final, curt meow, and rubbed up to his legs, pushing his feet against the door. He laughed, turned to the others waiting for him, and they nodded. Roman opened the door, and gestured them in.

Patton didn’t know what he had expected God’s office to look like, but it was decidedly _not_ what he found upon entering that door. He had expected something resembling the grand hallway leading up to it: golden statues, velvet carpet, ivory columns. And, sure, that seemed to be the basis of the office; it was everything that was added on that was surprising. The bookshelves were stacked exclusively with trashy magazines, the walls were covered in posters of boy bands and movie stars, and a side-room had been renovated into what appeared to be a personal Starbucks. Finally, in the center of it all, sitting on the sofa and watching TV, was:

“...God?” Patton asked unsurely.

The man--(should Patton call Him that?)--eyed the group from behind a pair of sunglasses. He didn’t bother to turn the TV off as He casually greeted, “Hey, babes! What’s up?”

“Um,” Patton glanced at his friends for help, but they were clearly just as lost as him. Well, not Janus; Janus seemed unbothered. This provided Patton some sense of comfort, enough for him to continue, “We wanted to ask about--”

“Hold that thought, hun,” God held up a finger. “Roman!”

Roman walked in, almost reluctantly, at the call. “Yes?”

“Be a peach and mute the TV, would you?” God asked, throwing His PA the remote. Roman caught it as if with practice, and pressed the mute button with a wry expression.

“Thanks, love you!” God said, then turned back to Patton. “What were we talking about?”

“Well--”

God tried to sip the frappe in His drink-holder, only to find it empty, and He interrupted again to say, “Roman, coffee alert! Mama needs His caffeine!”

Roman bit his lip, presumably to stop himself from letting out a sigh. When he walked to the Starbucks corner, he seemed to purposefully avoid eye contact with the group. Patton glanced at his friends, and found Virgil suppressing an amused grin, and Janus not bothering to suppress his.

“We wanted to ask about the end of the world,” Patton finally said.

God’s brow furrowed slightly. “End of the world? Oh! OH, that is coming up, isn’t it? When’s that again, Ro?”

Roman, from behind the coffee maker, replied, “7 and a half days.”

“Oo, fun!” God gasped, “That’s so soon! I totally forgot that was so soon, isn’t that crazy?”

“So crazy,” Roman agreed dryly, handing Him a new venti frappe.

“Right,” Patton said, almost at a loss, “So, you… _want_ the world to end?”

God shrugged, using one finger to play with his coffee straw as he spoke. “It was in my plan, wasn’t it? Plus, I mean, y’know… Earth’s really, like, ‘ew’ right now, right? Like, sure, I COULD save it, and then I’d let the humans keep doing their little thing, but I don’t want that; they’re mostly messes. I wanna make… I dunno a new place with, like, more Idris Elba’s.”

“And you’re willing to kill the real Idris Elba for that?” Janus cut in. God looked him up and down critically, before asking,

“Hey, do I know you from something?”

“No,” Janus replied quickly, “Certainly not from Eden, and even if I was there, I wasn’t the snake. I’m a real angel, hush.”

Patton turned to him in confusion, but God just shrugged again, and said, “K, whatever. Anyway, yeah, what’d you gals wanna know about Earth again?”

“Um, we wanted you to, maybe… not… blow it up?” Patton asked.

“Hmm,” God hummed, “Thanks, but no thanks! Earth is gross, I’m just so over it, you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” Patton replied without thinking, unable to hide the frustration in his voice anymore, “If Earth’s messed up, all the more reason to be there for _your_ children, and not just kill everything. It’s wrong.”

There was a ‘thunk’ against the floor, and Patton looked to see that Roman had dropped the old coffee cup he had been carrying to the trash. Logan and Virgil were staring at Patton with equally stricken expressions, and Janus’s face was unreadable. He suddenly realized what he had said. He then realized how many angels had fallen for saying much less.

God stood up slowly. He approached Patton until He was uncomfortably close.

“Awe,” He pouted, “babe, I know it’ll be sad, but how am I supposed to change it now? It’s in the plan, hun. I’m sure you understand.” He patted his cheek once condescendingly--a touch that carried the pleasant warmth of a sunbeam--before He stepped back and took a long sip of His coffee. Patton didn’t break eye contact the whole time.

“I have an idea,” Patton said in a newly sunny tone--the type of overly kind, conversational tone that should be feared-- “How about a bet?”

“Are you for real?” God gaped at the continued insolence, somewhere between disbelief and delight. In the end, delight--or at least novelty--won. “Deal with the Devil is out, deal with God is in; OK, I’m into it!”

“You say it’s too hard to save Earth now? _Impossible_ , even?” Patton asked challengingly. He heard a quiet gasp of realization from Logan, and when he glanced behind himself, he noticed Janus was smiling, as if impressed. This gave him enough confidence to continue, “Impossible, like it would be impossible for a few random angels to answer an unanswerable prayer?”

“Sweetie, I don’t know what you’re saying, but I love the way you’re saying it,” God waved His hand appreciatively.

Patton took Logan’s tablet from his hands. He scrolled to find the ‘ _Discarded Prayers: Impossible_ ’ file. He held it out to God for proof as he concluded, “If we can answer one of these prayers before the end of the world, surely you can stop it from ending.”

“THAT’S your plan?! Pat, we can’t complete the _possible_ prayers half the time,” Virgil exclaimed. He buried his face in his hands. “Earth’s dead.”

God, however, let out a dreamy sigh, holding one hand against His chest. Patton wasn’t sure if he was meant to feel like the ambitious hero or the prize dog at a pet show. “You know, I should say no…” God bit his lip with the same expression a suburban mother might have when she was about to cheat on her juice cleanse, “...but I never could resist a little twist! Ok, shake on it!”

God extended His hand, and Patton took it without hesitation.

“I, God, proclaim: Earth will not be destroyed next week if, and only if, an impossible prayer is answered.” As He spoke, His palm began to glow white, such that Patton had to look away for fear of being blinded. If God’s touch had been a sunbeam previously, it was now the whole sun, and Patton almost cried out from the burning heat. Technically, he didn’t have skin in the same way he did when he was alive, but he swore he felt it melting off in that grip.

Yet when God pulled away, there was no extra light in the room, no damage to his hand.

God smiled innocently. “Ok! Cute! So, what prayer you gonna choose?”

Huh. Patton hadn’t thought that far ahead. Maybe Virgil’s concern wasn’t so unwarranted. He looked down at the tablet he was still holding. His eyes scanned past several prayers that were beyond impossible-- _fix capitalism, no more YouTube ads, fix global warming, no more incels_ \--until his eyes caught on just the thing. An unabashed grin overtook Patton’s face in realization,

“Oh, I know exactly what prayer we’re doing.”

•••

“Well, have a good night!”

Nico turned his back on the cute mall man after he said it, and he had to push down the urge to glance back a final time. He tried not to believe in true love—it was at best unlikely, and at worst an extremely problematic trope—but he was a writer, and a daydreamer, and when he spotted the man a few tables down at the food court… he just knew.

Ok, he didn’t _know_ , there was no way to know that kind of thing—but he did want. He did hope. And he did, in a move that was unprecedented for him, pray:

_Please, if anyone’s up there: I know it’s silly, but I want this so badly. And I know it’s basically impossible at this point but, maybe… if we meet again... let this somehow work out?_


End file.
